


Finders Keepers

by JulyStorms



Series: Before Colors Broke into Shades [28]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyStorms/pseuds/JulyStorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern-Day AU. Zoë finds someone's wallet and endeavors to return it to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finders Keepers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: One finds the other’s wallet and goes on quest to give it back. Requested anonymously on Tumblr.
> 
> I didn’t follow the entire prompt because I didn’t feel it would be in character since I chose to let Zoë find Levi's wallet. Basically this is silly stupidity. I hope it's fun to read, though.

Zoë found the wallet when she sat on it in the corner booth at the café she inhabited every Saturday mid-afternoon.

“What?” Nanaba asked, already sitting across from her, chin resting on her hands, bony elbows against the table.

Zoë reached behind her, unsure, exactly, of what her fingers would find; any normal person might have stood up to _look_ —afraid of touching a chicken nugget or half a sandwich with extra mayo on it—but Zoë wasn’t exactly normal, and her fingers brushed up against worn leather instead of mayonnaise.

“Huh.” Nanaba leaned forward slightly when Zoë put the wallet on the table in front of her. “And all this time I thought that men patted their butts to see if they had their wallet; as it turns out, that’s not why they do it. They’re just checking to make sure they still _have_ a butt.”

With a snort, Zoë waved at Nana to order for them as she dug into the wallet; what she ought to have done was give it to the shift manager, but curiosity compelled her to see what kind of a person had left the thing there in the first place.

Wallets were interesting, after all—like purses. Some women kept enough in the depths of a small purse to survive on a deserted island for ten years, while others never even had Chapstick on hand.

After the waitress left their table, Nanaba’s foot collided gently with Zoë’s shin. “So, whose wallet is it?”

Zoë presented the man’s driver’s license with a flourish. “Meet Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s thirty-four years old, is rather short, weighs a deceptive amount, does not require glasses to drive, and luckily doesn’t have to renew his license anytime soon.”

“Hm. He looks cheerful.”

“Right? His wallet’s about to fall apart—it’s probably why he’s so grumpy in that picture.”

“Either that or they told him to smile at the BMV and he hates being told what to do.”

“Ooh, interesting. Maybe. All right. You ready for photographs?”

“Sure.”

There were two: one of a young man who looked nothing like Levi, and another of a young woman who also looked nothing like him. Nothing was written on the backs of the photographs—not even a date. “Wife and brother?” she guessed.

Nanaba shook her head. “Too young, probably. Maybe he mentors them.”

“Or they’re his wife’s siblings.”

“Why would he carry a picture of his wife’s siblings but not his wife?”

“Ex-wife?”

“That’s a little weird, don’t you think?”

Zoë shrugged. “I’ve seen plenty of weird people; this seems kind of normal by comparison.”

“True.” The arrival of their coffee and sandwiches only interrupted Nana briefly; after the waitress left again, she took a tentative sip of her drink and blew out a soft sigh through her nose. “Anything else?”

“One credit card, a _library card_ to a library that’s probably three-hundred miles from here, miscellaneous business cards and store cards, and…” She chewed on her lip and dug in the fold of the wallet: “Three dollars.”

“Cash is overrated these days.”

“It’s for the best. I’m gonna find this guy.”

“Eh? Why not just give his wallet to the manager?”

Zoë shrugged. “I’m bored and this is more fun. I’ll give my number to the manager instead.”

Nanaba rolled her eyes. “I wonder about you sometimes.”

“So do a lot of people. Besides, it’s not like it matters who has the wallet in the end.”

“It would be easier for him to retrieve it from the manager, since this is _probably_ the first place he’ll think to look for it.”

“Too bad for him. He should have checked to see if his wallet was there before he left.”

“What if he has a very round butt?” Nanaba asked with a little smile. “Maybe then he thought the wallet was in his pocket, but it had actually popped out when he sat down?”

“And you wonder about me?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a legitimate question, Zoë.”

“Well, when he meets me to get his wallet back, I’ll let you know if his butt was flat as a pancake or very round.”

“Or if it’s in the middle—I mean, that’s a valid place to be in, too, you know.”

“Seeing as how my butt is flat, I wouldn’t know.”

“Huh.” Nanaba smiled. “I guess I’m lucky enough to get the middle road—in this, anyway.”

* * *

 

Zoë didn’t have to wait very long to here from the wallet’s owner. Two hours after leaving the café, she got a text on her phone.

_You have my wallet._

She texted back: _You seem friendly._

He was not appreciative of this particular response, and made it clear: _I want my wallet back._

She gleefully told him to meet her at a decent restaurant for dinner.

* * *

 

It wasn’t a date, of course, even though Nanaba, after hearing of Zoë’s plans for the evening, said, “Did you really trick him into a date with you?”

“Of course not,” was Zoë’s immediate response. “Dating sucks. This is going to be much better.”

* * *

 

It was much better. Levi’s height and weight were correct. She was sure to point it out to him before she handed his wallet to him.

He did not respond. He stayed standing, next to her table, and rifled through it as if he expected everything to be missing.

“It’s all there,” she told him.

He made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat; she supposed that meant he didn’t care.

“Of course, you’ll still want to cancel your credit card, probably. I mean, someone could have written the numbers down. Even me. And online shopping is pretty awesome. I’m not sure what your credit limit is, but it’s probably all right. Good for a new microscope for my lab or something.”

“Or a new pair of glasses.”

Her eyebrows lifted. It was really the first thing he’d bothered to say to her. “Why? What’s wrong with these?”

“Those went out of style in 1984.”

“Maybe 1998.”

“Whatever.”

She grinned at him. “Are you planning to sit down or what?”

“No.”

“You should. We have much to discuss.”

“No we don’t.”

“Of course we do! I found your wallet. This is your chance to spill your life story to me! I’ll even pay for dinner. See? That’s generous. It’ll be fun. After tonight we’ll never see each other again and you’ll have a story to tell your grandkids or something about the nutcase who found your wallet and how it was a huge waste of time for you to eat dinner with her because you had to go home and cancel your credit card anyway—“

He sat down.

As if _that_ would make her stop talking.

* * *

 

A year later, the story was told for the first time—not to grandkids, but at a reception.

“…So I asked her if she’d tricked this poor man into going out on a date with her, and she says, _nah—dating sucks._ She then assures me that _this_ —this _not-date_ —is going to be much better than a date.” Nanaba paused, champagne glass held carefully in front of her. She tipped it to Zoë, and then to the man sitting next to her. “Well, she wasn’t _wrong_. All the happiness to my best friend—and the guy whose wallet she sat on last year.”


End file.
